Bedtime Story
by May Alice Page
Summary: Her Mama grinned and looked down at the book for a moment before setting it on the nightstand. "Don't you need the storybook, Mama?" The queen shook her head, "This story is true." Oneshot. Hints at Jelsa, but the focus is more on Elsa and her mother.


Elsa sat on her bed in her new room, hugging her knees and staring down at her lap. She could feel the temperature get lower by the second. The princess couldn't bear having hurt her little sister. Her parents had assured her time and time again that Anna would be just fine, and the elder sister had never meant for anything bad to happen. Still, as a precaution, her father had arranged for the girls to sleep in separate rooms until she could control her magic. It was starting to get late, and their bedtime was fast approaching. Elsa had heard her sister giggling in the hallway as the king carried the rambunctious little princess to her own bedroom to read her a bedtime story and tuck her in. A tiny smile found its way onto Elsa's face at the thought of Anna eagerly telling her own ending to whichever tale would be selected tonight, and her mother and father smiling and closing the book, keeping her version as it was. It would be just like before, only one member of the family would be absent from now on.

Several minutes passed and Elsa heard the sound of Anna's door closing, and then that of her parents' footsteps coming toward her own room. Already in her nightgown, she lifted the blankets, crawled under them, and lowered her head onto her pillow as the King of Arendelle opened her door, his wife standing behind him, smiling toward their elder daughter, who remained solemn, still shaken from the events of the other night. "Elsa?" her father called softly. "Hi, Mama," the princess greeted dejectedly. "Hi, Papa." "We just wanted to say goodnight," the queen spoke sweetly. "Goodnight," Elsa replied, rolling over to face away from them. The king tried to ask, "Would you like us to read-" "I'm too old for stories, Papa." Her father stopped and simply nodded to try and respect her wishes. "We love you," her Mama was clearly trying for a more welcoming reaction, but the princess just didn't feel capable of one. "Try to get a good night's rest," the king spoke up.  
"Yes, Papa."

Once her parents' footsteps had seemed to disappear, tears started to roll down Elsa's cheek. How could this have happened? She loved her sister more than anything or anyone besides their parents. She'd never thought she could be so dangerous to Anna. Before, her magic had been beautiful and joyous to both of them, but now it seemed more like a curse. But it was never going to go away, so Elsa would have to somehow learn to live with the trouble it had caused.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts, and her eyes snapped open. "Anna, go back to sleep," she murmured. "I mean it." But her door opened anyway, only it wasn't her sister who entered. Her mother still smiled sweetly, a leather-bound storybook in her arms. "What is it?" Elsa sat up in her bed and furrowed her brows at the queen, who pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, lowering the book onto her lap. "Are you sure you can't listen to one last bedtime story?" Elsa relaxed her eyebrows and sighed silently. "Just this one," she agreed. Her Mama grinned and looked down at the book for a moment before setting it on the nightstand. "Don't you need the storybook, Mama?" The queen shook her head, "This story is true." This piqued the princess's curiosity. What kind of bedtime story could come from something real? Nevertheless, she let her mother begin.

"Once, there was a young boy, who was mischievous, and always getting himself into trouble for the sake of just having fun. But he had a heart of gold, and he was always there when someone needed him. It was quite easy, because the boy could fly!" As she said it, she leaned a bit toward her daughter, eyes widened. Elsa gasped silently as the queen continued, "Not only that, but he could make it snow, and create frost, and freeze the water so everyone could go ice skating, have snowball fights, or build snowmen. The children adored the boy - Jack Frost - and they played in the snow all day long while he was off bringing snow to different places all over the world. Now, Jack Frost still brings winter even here to Arendelle. He uses his gift to bring joy and fun to others, and although not everyone believes in him, he's always there." Elsa knew that her mother had most likely made up the tale to make the princess feel better and resolved that it hadn't worked. She pulled her blanket back over her body and shut her eyes. "Goodnight, Mama."

The queen picked up the book and left her daughter to sleep, shutting the door behind her. It had been no use. After she returned the book to its shelf in her own bedroom, frowning sadly, she went back to bed next to her already sleeping husband.

It took a few hours for the elder princess to fall asleep. She rested facing her window the rest of that night, keeping her eyes peeled for any oddities. After all, Jack Frost's sort of magic clearly existed, so there was some chance that the story wasn't fantasy. The only thing that made it seem more far-fetched was his alleged ability to fly. People can't really fly; everyone knows that. Regardless, she could have sworn that, as she was about to fall into a deep sleep, she saw something soaring past the moon as frost started to form on her windowpanes, which she was almost positive wasn't her doing. But it couldn't have been "Jack Frost."

That was only a bedtime story.


End file.
